


Pick up (and knit)

by Pennyplainknits



Category: Inception (2010) RPF
Genre: Knitting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennyplainknits/pseuds/Pennyplainknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by JGL's purple scarf and Tom Hardy's joking that he'd like to learn to knit. Needless to say, none of this is true</p><p>You can read this fic in Russian, translated by Amorph, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/583751">here</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick up (and knit)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Возьми и вяжи!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/602251) by [Amorph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorph/pseuds/Amorph)



The knitting thing started out as a bit of a joke, on Johnathon Ross, just part of the banter, but the thing was, it did get boring on set sometimes. YouTube was full of knitting videos, and Tom's gran spent one Sunday lunch explaining the different between knit and purl, and smacking his hands when he got it wrong.

He bought some shiny blue needles and green cotton yarn, and by the end of the week he had a dishcloth. It was full of holes, and you couldn't do a great deal with it other than wipe stuff up, but still. It had been a ball of string a week ago, and now, it was a vaguely square piece of cloth. It was pretty fucking cool.

It was also kind of relaxing, meditative even, and he took to slinging it in his bag, carrying it around with him. The needles poked him in the side sometimes, but when he got stuck in a tunnel on the Northern line for 40 minutes, with no phone reception, it did come in useful. The redhead across from him took out her own knitting, something grey and tweedy, and grinned at him as the needles clicked. He winked at her and she blushed and smiled more broadly. She had that "I think I recognise him" look, but she didn't say anything other than

"That looks good."

"I think I'm stuck, " he said after a few minutes, holding out the beanie . "I keep ending up with the wrong number of stitches." And he squeezed on the the seat next to her before she could say anything. "I don't suppose...?"

She muttered something that sounded like "story of my life," but took the knitting from him and helped him fix it. The tube juddered back into life just as she was explaining about Ravelry, and she took a picture of him holding the hat before she got off at the next stop, and blushed deeply when he pecked her cheek in thanks.

"Hell, I should learn to knit," the guy next to him said.

He patted him on the shoulder.

"It's not the knitting, mate, its the knitter."

***

Cute Hat! Ellen tweeted at the picture, when he uploaded it.

*Orange?* Really? Joe tweeted, and he could almost hear the disapproval. He made a point to wear the orange beanie next time they were in the same city, just to keep him on his toes.

***

The rain lashed down in sheets and he ducked into the nearest shop without realising it was full of yarn. The woman at the counter glared at him, like she suspected he had depraved designs on her cashmere, and seemed impervious to his smile. It was fucking biblical outside though, so he browsed the shelves of yarn as the rain clattered on the windows. The purple caught his eye. It was soft and fuzzy and cozy-looking, like it would make a nice scarf.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing with this?" the woman asked sceptically, when he took the balls to the counter and handed over his card.

"I thought I'd tie someone up with it and flog them with the ends. Why, you offering?" he replied, irritated, punching in his PIN over her gasp.

***

The purple yarn was very soft and fuzzy, and people seemed to be magnetically drawn to it, stroking it and running their fingers over the stitches. The basketweave pattern was a bit tricky, and the edges were a bit sloppy, but he figured it didn't much matter. A couple of journalists on the _Inception_ press tour gave him funny looks when they saw the needles poking out of his bag, but they were soon distracted by talk of Chris's vision, the visual effects, and what the story actually _meant_.

As to the last one, he was fucked if he knew. He suspected even Chris didn't.

"You're really into this, aren't you?" Joe sat down next to him, and crossed his legs yoga-style. Tom allowed himself some filthy thoughts about his flexibility.

"All part of my mysterious charm," he said, absently. He lifted one stitch over the other carefully with the tip of the needle. He always managed to fuck up casting off at least once, if he didn't concentrate.

Joe stretched across and ran his hand over the pattern, rubbing his fingers over the scarf on Tom's thigh. The slight smirk on his face made it clear it wasn't an accident. Tease.

"Still, first orange, then purple," he continued. "Purple is not really your colour, is it?"

"No," Tom said as he cast off the last stitch and pulled the yarn through to fasten it off. "It's not." He stood up and looped the scarf round Joe's neck, grazing his fingers across his jaw and cheek on purpose. "It is yours though." The purple went well with Joe's dark hair and eyes, and the whole hipster thing. Joe smiled again, the dimples shading to something more wicked.

The scarf looked almost as good on Tom's hotel room floor as it did tucked around Joe's neck.


End file.
